


A New Hope

by Paladin-Pile (UserFromPluto)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith's adorable galra babies, M/M, Mpreg, canon divergence - season 1, he looks mostly human with some Galra traits, past Keith/Regris, soft shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UserFromPluto/pseuds/Paladin-Pile
Summary: While on a joint mission with their new allies, the Blade of Marmora, an injured Blade named Keith is rescued and brought on board the Castle. Shiro becomes attached to Keith and his four newborn kits, but both their troubled pasts are haunting them.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 230
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the art of the amazing AniDragon for the sheith big bang! 
> 
> Thank you to iluvscrewballandwoodstock and ulqueleleh for their beta services! 
> 
> My   
> Tumblr and Twitter

The rebel base is a wreck. Piercing alarms and flashing lights alternate the hallway Shiro is running in from pitch black to a blinding red glow. It’s disorienting at best. The static of the other paladins voices skitter in his ears, but they are drowned out by his own thundering heartbeat, panic rushing in his ears. It’s been a scant few weeks since they formed Voltron for the first time, and they haven’t seen much ground combat yet. Each fight brings flashbacks to the arena, and he freezes during their battles more often than not. Shiro knows he will feel ashamed later, but the resistance fighter running beside him seems to understand. 

Ulaz talks Shiro through each movement, checking on him regularly even though they only just met. The Blade of Marmora are Galra themselves, and Shiro had been struck with fear when he first saw them, but when he found Ulaz, injured yet still fighting, who had looked him straight in the eyes, they reached an understanding with just a nod. 

The battle is going poorly. The base had been nearly overtaken by the time Voltron arrived, but still they press on. Shiro follows Ulaz blindly, losing himself to the swing of his weapon arm, mind blank and body screaming with adrenaline. 

They round a corner and stumble on several bodies strewn over the floor, a tangled mound of Blade, Empire, and drone forms. Shiro snatches a fallen blaster and scans the room for danger, but Ulaz does not follow. 

“Ancients, no. _Keith!_ ” 

Shiro whirls to see Ulaz scramble over the bodies and fall to his knees. The raw pain in his voice chips at Shiro’s battle haze, and he stumbles a step closer. Ulaz reaches the limp form of another, much-smaller Blade, disengaging the mask, and Shiro gasps before he can stop himself. 

It’s a human, or as close to one as could get with fluffy, pointed ears of a Galra and purple markings on each check. Blood covers one side of his face and mats his hair, but still the resemblance is clear. Ulaz lets out a sobbing breath as he cradles the limp body, searching for a pulse, and it’s then Shiro realizes the boy is _very_ pregnant.

“He’s alive,” Ulaz chokes out, “Shiro, get-“

“Coran we need an extraction, now!” Shiro barks into the comm. “Urgent medical aid.” He’s surprised to find his voice shaking, and a pang of sorrow breaks through the numb shell of his chest. Immediately he clenches his jaw, channeling the feelings into anger to fuel action. He helps Ulaz move Keith onto a stretcher from a nearby supply closet, then leaps to his feet and down the corridor. The newfound rage washes everything else away as he leaps back into the fight, blank and cold with precision, clearing the remaining enemies in his path. 

****

It’s hours after returning to the castle before Shiro comes back to himself. Hours of sitting on the cold floor outside the medical wing, letting the fight-white heat drain out of him. As the adrenaline leaves the trembling starts, and Shiro presses his hands to the floor and back to the wall to steady himself. He’s not alone here. The leader of the blades, Kolivan, is seated a few feet away, hasty bandage wrapped around his head. He had refused treatment, insisting Keith receive care first. Shiro clenches his teeth to stop their chattering, suddenly glad that the other paladins had gone to bed and not able to see him like this. The med door opens and Shiro blinks, wondering how long he’s been drifting. Coran and Ulaz step out, matching states of exhaustion on their faces, and Shiro’s breath catches. 

“The babies are delivered safely,” Coran says, “and Keith is...stable.”

A gust of air leaves Shiro’s lungs and he slumps further down the wall. The relief is sharp and overwhelming after hours of feeling nothing at all and he’s he’s not sure if it’s better. Ulaz moves to Kolivan’s side, assessing his wounds as Coran approaches Shiro. 

“You alright my boy?” he asks. “Any injuries?” Shiro runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. 

“Not hurt,” he mumbles hoarsely. It’s a bit of a lie, but bruises don't count, “Just wanna see if he’s alright.” 

Coran smiles. “You can come see them if you like,” he says, reaching out an arm. Shiro takes it, grateful that Coan doesn't mention the trembling. He is lead to the infirmary with lights dimmed to a comforting level, and the dry, sterile air tickles his nose. Coran moves his hand from Shiro’s arm to the small of his back, guiding him to the bed Keith is laying on and the small crib adjacent. 

“He’s still unconscious,” Coran says, voice lowered. “He should wake up in a few days.”

Shiro nods in acknowledgement, unable to take his eyes off the young man in front of him. His face and hair have been cleaned, bandages applied, and wearing soft robes instead of the blade uniform. His pitch black hair lies braided beside his head, and he’s the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen. A small sound from his left makes him turn, and there in the crib are four impossibly tiny babies, swaddled like little cocoons. Unlike their father, they have large fluffy ears and more varied markings, some even have tails. 

“Why does he look so human?” Shiro asks, glancing between the babies and the motionless Blade. 

“Oh Keith is half human, father’s side, but his mate was Galra, so the babies have a few more Galra traits.”

That spawns a million more questions in Shiro’s mind, but he’s too exhausted to form them. One of the babies begin squirming, face scrunching in displeasure and letting out little mewls of anger until Coran scoops them up with ease. 

“I suppose you’re getting hungry,” the man coos. “We have some delicious formula right over here…” His voice trails off into senseless baby-talk, but Shiro remains fixed, staring at the other babes until Coran returns with bottles. “We’ll have our hands full with these kits!” he remarks. “Do you mind feeding one our two?”

Shiro recoils. “Oh, oh no I couldn’t” he stammers, backing away from the delicate lives in the bassinet. 

Coran flaps his hand. “Oh nonsense, you’ll do wonderful!” he procures a chair out of nowhere and shoves it behind Shiro’s legs, plopping him down into it. “I’ll teach you how, nothing to it at all!” 

Shiro’s breath quickens. He can’t be near them, he’s too big, too dangerous. He watches in horror as Coran lifts another kit from the bed, bringing it closer. 

“This is a little girl,” he says. “Naming won’t happen for a few weeks yet according to Galra.” He sees the expression on Shiro’s face places his free hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” he assures, “I’ll help you.” Shiro clenches his jaw but finally nods. Coran moves to his side, positioning Shiro’s arms and giving instructions as Shiro fights to control his breathing. He remains frozen, every muscle locked tight as Coran nestles the baby in the crook of Shiro’s left arm. The baby is fussing, swinging her fists in demand for food, and Shiro holds his breath, paralyzed with fear as Coran puts a bottle of formula in Shiro’s prosthetic hand. When he guides it closer to the baby’s mouth Shiro jerks away, gasping sharply. It’s a weapon, _he’s_ a weapon, huge and dangerous and bloodstained. Colors swirl in his vision, rent with screams and dripping blood. He can’t be here, he’ll hurt them-

A sharp ache in his shoulder drags him from the mire and he blinks at Coran’s face in front of him. The Altean has a death grip on his shoulder, which loosens when he sees Shiro is conscious of him. “Breathe, Shiro,” he says. “You’re alright, it’s alright. You won’t hurt them.” 

Shiro closes his eyes and takes a few slow breaths. When he opens them again Coran is still there, radiating patience and compassion that calms Shiro a bit. With a nod he allows Coran to guide his hand again toward the baby. When the bottle touches her lips she latches on immediately, sucking with all her might. “Perfect!” Coran says, standing up. “Don’t forget to talk to her, it’s good for the brain!” He hustles off to feed the other babies, leaving Shiro to stare at the one in his arms. She’s already looking back at him. Her huge purple eyes with golden flecks are mesmerizing, and he swallows hard, working up the courage. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

She gurgles, kicking her feet, eyes still locked on his face. 

“Um, how are you?”

However many minutes pass, Shiro is unaware. He watches transfixed, until her eyes begin to droop. The sucking continues slower than before and Shiro realizes she's falling asleep. The bottle is almost empty. She cooes, flailing a hand until she runs into Shiro. Her hand wraps tightly around his prosthetic thumb and her eyes slip closed again. Panic climbs up Shiro’s throat. The hand is too close to her, it’s dangerous, but when seconds pass and nothing happens, he forces some of the tension to leave his shoulders. The baby is safe, he tells himself. Her needs have been met she’s asleep in his arms. He gently pulls the empty bottle from her mouth, but when he tries to set it aside, she won't let go of his finger. She squirms in her sleep, smile blooming on her tiny face. 

Tears fall from Shiro’s face to her blanket. He wipes his face on his shoulder, fighting to stay still and not wake her. It’s overwhelming, but a flicker of hope dawns in his heart. Has he done something good? For the first time since his captivity he’s done something to help and care instead of hurt, that was useful for something more than destruction. He’s a trembling mess when Coran comes to takes the baby, gently prying her from Shiro’s finger and setting her with her siblings. He’s back in an instant, pulling up a chair beside Shiro and holding him close. Shiro wraps his arms around his own waist, letting Coran pet his hair as he cries. 

****

Keith wakes slowly, every inch of his body aching. He groans at the harsh light burning through his eyelids, and when he blinks them open, Ulaz is there, hovering over him. 

“Keith, can you hear me?” 

Keith grunts in affirmation, but it comes out more of a croak from his dry throat. Ulaz slips a hand behind Keith’s head, lifting gently while holding out water, and Keith gulps it down, gasping from the exertion. Plopping his head back on the pillow, he goes through the familiar routine of taking stock of his injuries. Bandage around his head, IV lines in his arms, stitches in his stomach‒Keith’s hands fly to his abdomen, now flat instead of round and his breathing quickens in rapid gasps.

“Where are they!?” he wheezes. 

“In the next room,” Ulaz says, grasping Keith arm. He rubs gently and continues in a soothing voice. “They’re alive and healthy.” 

Keith whimpers, and Ulaz responds immediately with soothing rumbles. Keith’s tries to calm his racing heart, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain. Ulaz protests but Keith shrugs him off. “Where am I?” he demands, struggling to his feet. His legs crumple on the first step and Ulaz catches him, taking most of his weight. The older Blade sighs, guiding them towards the door at a pace frustratingly slow but too fast for Keith’s screaming body. 

“We’re in an Altean ship with the paladins of Voltron,” Ulaz says. “The base was destroyed. You’ve been unconscious for about a week.” It’s the bare minimum of information, but Keith is grateful, he’s not sure his aching head could take any more. He pushes one foot in front of the others, instincts screaming at him to find his kits and hold them to his chest. Ulaz opens the door and helps Keith through, A large crib is centered in the room, soft music tinkling in the background. 

There is a man sitting on the couch, rocking and singing.

He looks up when they enter, and his eyes widen when he sees Keith. His scarred face is young but he is broadly built, one arm gleaming metal in what is clearly a Galra design. A warble comes from the bundle in his arms and it suddenly dawns on Keith that the stranger is holding one of his kits. White-hot anger explodes through him and Keith snarls viciously. The man jumps and Keith stumbles toward him in fury.

“Give me my kit,” he growls, snatching the baby away. He rushes to the bassinet and leans against it, hands trembling as he checks each baby. They’re perfect and the’re his, making little chirps and grunts that he returns, running his fingers in awe over their tiny faces. “Ulaz do you have a room for us?” He hardly recognizes his own voice, chest crushed inward with shame and heartbreak. 

“Yes” 

“Bring us there. Now. “ 

Ulaz is by his side in an instant, supporting him and pushing the bassinet down the arched hallway. Keith doesn’t look around, blinded by the urge to get to a private space to bond with his kits. In only a few steps they reach a small room, and when the door slides upon Keith sucks in a relieved breath. The room is wonderfully prepared with a mountain and pillows and blankets on the bed, baby supplies stocked within reach. Keith immediately sets to making a nest.

“Please leave us,” he tells Ulaz. He feels a bit guilty for asking, but he would go crazy if there is anyone else in the room right now. Ulaz worries his lip but nods.

“There is a communicator beside the bed if you need anything,” he says quietly, slipping out and closing the door behind him. 

Alone with his new children, Keith is nearly overwhelmed. He spends hours with them, getting each settled in the nest on the bed, scenting them, nursing them, curling his body around theirs as they sleep together. He weeps while grooming them, mourning the missing parent and mate. It was bad enough when Regris had been killed on a mission six phoebs into Keith’s pregnancy. The loss took a toll on the health of both Keith and the babies, and now each passing second is a reminder that Regris will never meet their kits. 

Keith’s tears are silent but the babies still fuss, sensing their fathers distress. He can't even name them; traditional naming was done after the first month with both parents involved, doing so without Regris drives a stab in his already aching heart. His wounds throb and nausea rolls through him. After birth, Galra mates play a huge role in calming and comforting both birthing mate and kits, but now Keith and babies have no one, and must suffer alone.

The lights in the castle have long dimmed before he falls into a restless sleep.

****

The next day is the same. Keith remains in the room with his kits, only allowing Ulaz and Coran in with food and supplies. At first, Keith was wary of the Altean, but recognized that he and the babies needed medical care. Keith spends the hours bonding with the babies, counting their fingers, petting their fluffy hair and ears. They have Regris’s ears and Keith’s skin tone, but the markings vary between them. Each feature passed down from his mate brings another time of morning, and Keith is tired from all the emotional conflict. Though his is relieved he and the kits survived the attack, and overwhelmed with love and joy at having them in his arms, he is weighed down with the pain of injuries and the loss of his kind, caring mate. What he wouldn't give to have Regris here, strong arms around him and the babies, caring for them in the post-birthing traditions. Keith knows that someday he would have to move forward, to leave them room and figure out how to raise the babies alone, but for now he lets himself sink deeper into the nest, purring as he gathers them to his chest. The hours pass until the softly glowing clock on the wall shows it is quite late at night. The silence is comforting, with only his own breathing and that of the babies filling the space.

He is about to fall asleep when a distant scream pierces the silence. Keith is instantly on alert, tensing with every sense at the ready. If the castle has been attacked or infiltrated he has little chance of survival or defense of his kits in this state. The screaming continues, haunting and pained, before cutting off abruptly, and Keith shivers, breath caught and heart pounding. Agonizing minutes pass, and soon multiple footsteps echo in the hallway. Keith moves into a crouch, ready to spring into action to defend his kits, 

“Keith,” Ulaz voice calls. “May I come in?”

Relief floods Keith and he releases the breath he was holding in a gust. “Yes,” he replies, sitting up. The door slides open, the blue glow from the hallway spilling in. Ulaz does not enter, but stands in the doorway with another figure supported on his side.

“May I bring Shiro in?” Ulaz asks. 

Even though he trusts Ulaz with his life, Keith hesitates. Instinct is screaming at him to keep strangers away, but as he studies the man, he realizes it’s the same one he’d seen holding his kits the day before. Only now he is completely unresponsive, head hanging down and leaning his full weight on Ulaz. 

“The choice is yours, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know it was safe.” 

“What’s wrong with him?” Keith asks in a hush. “I heard screaming.”

Ulaz slumps, pulling the paladin’s arm more snugly over his shoulder. “His time as a captive of the Empire was not kind to him, and he refuses to let the others see him like this.” Sympathy tugs at Keith’s heart and he finally nods, gesturing to the empty second bed across the room. Ulaz’s face loses its tension and he all but carries young man to the bed, wrapping him in blankets and murmuring softly. Keith crouches low in his own bed, hovering over the kits as he watches intently. He’s still wary, but the scent of the paladin’s fear is sharp and sickening, and Keith’s stomach clenches in sympathy. Ulaz’s murmurs are soothing but Keith can still hear gasps and pained whimpers. Finally Ulaz stands, leaving behind a lump of blankets to sit by Keith. 

“Seeing my face is not helping him right now,” he says. His face is drawn with exhaustion and sadness, eyes lingering on the huddled form. “I helped him escape. He was forced to fight in the gladiator rings and experimented on by the priestess. Even after escaping he was thrown into this fight.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I fear for him. Such a kind soul, so ruthlessly beaten down.” He turns to Keith fond smile on his lips. “He was a huge help with the kits while you were unconscious, a natural with them.”

Keith turns to look at the man. He and Ulaz were speaking so quietly the other would not hear even in the best state of mind, yet he sits against the wall with his knees pulled up and face buried. Ulaz had wrapped him with blankets in attempted comfort, but Keith can still see his violent trembling. His sorrow resonates within Keith, deep and permeating. 

Almost without thought Keith pushes himself up, crawling over the kits and to the edge of the bed. He can feel Ulaz watching but offers no explanation, only stands, then pauses, conflicted. He knows his kits are safe, Ulaz is here, and the newcomer has not shown himself a threat, but there is still a chance of danger he can’t deny. The tug acts on Keith heart once more, and he crosses the room step by step. If seeing a Galra face made things worse, Keith’s pale skin and near-human likeness might help. 

At a loss how to comfort, he carefully sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch. The man‒Shiro‒doesn't stir, so Keith reaches out, placing a hand on Shiro’s arm, finding it tense and trembling. After a moment, there is a tiny shift and Shiro’s eye appears. It’s beautiful grey color is faded and cloudy, so filled with fear and pain that Keith instinctively makes the same soothing sound he does with his kits. He slides his hand to Shiro’s sweat-soaked hair, petting gently. Shiro’s eye never leaves Keith’s face, and Keith’s heart breaks when he sees tears escape and soak the blanket. He keeps up the gentle ministrations and soft purring. He wants to speak but doesn't know what to say, there are no words that would be suitable or helpful. 

Shiro wilts more as time goes on and Keith reaches out the other arm, guiding him to lie down on his side. It’s an awkward position; he’s more sideways on the bed than anything and still curled in a ball, but Keith arranges the blankets around him to act as a pillow. He brushes Shiro’s face, wiping away tears. Dark eyelashes flutter closed, another shaky inhale rippling through his body. The lines of his face are slowly fading, and the fear scent is not so strong. Keith stomach churns when he thinks of all the horror Shiro has been through, and he pushes it out of his mind. He needs to be calm for Shiro’s sake. 

Keith stays until the paladin falls asleep. Quietly he slips back to his own bed, checking the kits before rolling over to face Ulaz. The older Blade sits relaxed in the large bedside chair, arms across his chest and watching Keith. His soft gaze fills Keith with gratitude he tucks the blanket around Keith and the babies. Keith swallows, trying to wade through the swell of emotions and failing He whispers his thanks and Ulaz purrs in return. 

“Will he be alright?” Keith whispers after a few moments of silence. Ulaz purses his lips, glancing over Keith to the other bed. 

“I certainly hope so. If he has support and care he will undoubtedly improve.”

Keith frowns. “I just...my heart goes out to him. To go through something like that, is a fate worse than death.”

“If you’re alone, yes.”

Alone. It’s a word Keith knows all too well. He strokes a kit’s cheek with his finger, letting his mind wander to the terrifying future. 

“Get some sleep, Keith.” Ulaz says. “I’ll stay.” 

****

When morning comes Shiro apologizes profusely, shame coloring his face and drooping his shoulders. In the light he looks even more vulnerable, standing there with thick blanket wrapped around him and hair sticking up in odd directions. Ulaz gives Keith a meaningful look and slips out, leaving Keith suddenly shy, but determined to make Shiro more comfortable.

“It’s ok,” Keith says for the tenth time. “You can take a shower if you want. There’s basic clothing in the cabinet.” 

Shiro nods, eyes darting to the floor. “Thanks,” he murmurs, quickly ducking into the attached bathroom. After only a few minutes of the shower running the door opens and Shiro returns in the standard Altean shirt and pants and a fluffy towel around his neck. His dampened hair falls into his eyes, and his face has softened in a way that makes Keith’s breath catch in his throat.

The Paladin catches Keith staring and flushes red. Shiro stammers another thanks and hurries to the door, but freezes when he catches sight of the babies. He stares silently, something vulnerable in his gaze, and Keith remembers how he first saw him tenderly caring for the kits, and Ulaz’s remarks about his dedication. Keith pulls the side of the nest away, nodding toward the squirming kits. 

“Want to see them?”

Shiro’s eyes light up and he nods quickly. Keith moves aside and lets Shiro approach the bed, but Shiro moves slowly, watching Keith for any signs of discomfort. Deep down Keith’s instincts are protesting, but yet another inner pull tells him to trust Shiro. On one hand its very difficult to allow a stranger near him and his kits in his vulnerable state, but on the other hand there is a small, blooming trust in Shiro, one that frightens as much as confuses Keith. The man is calm and kind, and Keith almost feels safe in his presence. The inner conflict must show on his face, because Shiro pauses a few steps away, soft grey eyes patient. He casts a longing gaze at the kits, but returns to Keith, waiting for permission. The worry in Keith’s chest eases and he smiles, nodding his head toward the open edge of the bed. Shiro hurries to sit down, face morphing to childlike joy as he leans over the kits. 

“Hello babies!” he coos. The kits immediately begin chirping, waving arms and turning towards the sound. Shiro gasps softly, eyes squinting with happiness. “I think they remember me!” 

Keith gapes, stunned at the kits reaction. It makes sense, he realizes, that the kits would remember one of their first caretakers, they likely have imprinted on him as well. Though who is more attracted to whom is hard to say, with how dreamily Shiro fusses over them. Warmth spreads in Keith’s chest, unbidden, and he snuggles down into the nest to watch the interaction. 

“You can hold them if you like,” he says. Shiro beams, and carefully scoops up one of the girls. She’s small enough to fit in his palms, but he rocks his whole body while he talks to her. She watches him with wide eyes, thumb in her mouth and tail flicking with interest. Her fluffy ears twitch and Shiro giggles, returning her to the pile when the other kits complain about being ignored. He strokes their little cheeks, pets their hair, and tickles their bellies. Shiro catches Keith staring again and smiles sadly. 

“I missed them,” he says. “At first I was terrified, but they’re so beautiful and sweet. They brightened life here on the castle.” He rubs his face, shoulders slumping. “I’m really glad you’re ok, we were worried you wouldn’t make it.” He bites his lip, glancing up at Keith through lashes, and for a moment, Keith works to find his voice.

“Thank you.”

Shiro looks up, surprised. For a moment, their gazes lock, but Shiro laughs softly. “No, thank you. For last night...you didn't have to do that for me.”

Keith looks away, embarrassed. “It’s fine. I’m glad it helped. Um, I’m sorry it happened in the first place-- I mean, I’m sorry those things happened to you.”

Shiro nods, not meeting Keith’s eyes. The silence stretches long. Then something shutters Shiro’s gaze, closing in on himself. “I’d better go,” he says. Something inside him closes in front of Keith eyes as Shiro visibly collects himself. standing and keeping his eyes away from the kits. Keith understands the need to steel oneself for the cruelties of reality, he’s done it many times himself, but on Shiro it’s different, something that should never be. 

Suddenly, Keith makes a decision. Life is short, and wars make it shorter. His instincts have never led him wrong before, his mother always told him he was sensitive to Quintessence in a way he could feel the souls of living beings, and this Shiro, oh he glows so brightly. The warmth calls to Keith, he swallows his fear and grabs the paladin’s sleeve. 

“Please stay,” he says. “The kits…” he pauses, swallowing his fear. “The kits and I need you.”

Shiro’s brows furrow, confusion and worry flickering over his face. “Of course,” he says softly. “Anything you need.” 

Keith tugs him to the bed, arraigning him on the side of the nest with the kits between them. He tugs on Shiro’s pajama top. “Take this off.” Shiro sputters and turns red, but obeys anyway. Keith immediately adds the shirt to the nest and picks up the first kit, unwrapping him down to his diaper and placing him on Shiro’s chest. He does the same for each kit, carefully nestling them on Shiro’s chest and the crook of his neck. The kits settle immediacy, purring loudly, and Keith sits back on his knees to watch them. Shiro looks nervous but has a smile on his face. 

“They need skin contact,” Keith explains. “You were one of the first to bond with them, even before me.” That will never cease to hurt, but Keith pushes on. “So they need to be with you. I’m sorry if it’s too much, you didn’t sign up for any of this.”

A soft smile crosses Shiro’ face. “I signed up to help people. To relieve suffering in the universe, so...” he gestures to the kits, “this is right in the job description.” 

Keith smiles back, warmth flooding his chest once more. He brings more blankets and pillows and tucks Shiro in, creating an even bigger nest around them all. When he is satisfied, Keith curls up and lays his head on Shiro’s stomach. A couple of the kits wiggle closer to him and he purrs, stroking their soft hair. Shiro watches them, eyes soft though still a little guarded. He smells so good, and the kits’ contentment is affecting Keith as well. Still purring, he lets his eyes drift shut, basking in the feeling of safety. Suddenly a touch brushes his hair, and Keith’s eyes fly open to find Shiro’s hand frozen over his head, eyes wide. 

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I just thought-”

Keith shakes his head, eyes closing again. “It’s ok,” he says. “It’s nice.” A few seconds pass before the touch returns, hesitant and gentle, Shiro’s fingers threading through his hair and rubbing his scalp. Keith’s purring surges, mind going blank at the sensation. He wants to say something, but can’t quite think what it is. He slips under before he can get a word out. 

*****

Shiro fights to keep his breathing steady, to conceal that fact his heart is beating out of his chest. A few minutes ago he had been embarrassed and ashamed, ready to flee Keith’s room and never speak of last night again, but suddenly he is in Keith’s bed, wrapped in blankets with the kits on his chest and Keith curled up beside him with his head on Shiro’s stomach. His mind reels and he takes deep breaths to steady himself. It’s overwhelming, how warm and comforted he feels. The kits are sleeping soundly, their soft fur tickling his skin and their purrs rumbling the long-held stress from his body, and Keith...Keith was also purring. Shiro pets his hair slowly, marveling at the softness. Keith had melted into him, and Shiro’s heart aches as he watches the other sleep. Such unknown territory is terrifying to Shiro, but he couldn’t dream of leaving. The babies need him, Keith needs him, and he won’t ask questions. He revels in the warmth of cradling them close, feeling the ragged edges of himself beginning to stitch closed for the first time since he was taken by the Galra. Shiro’s hands shake where they lay on downy heads, and he begins to realize he needs them too. He dozes for a while, time slipping by in a haze until a soft knock on the door drags him to wakefulness. Ulaz pokes his head in the door, brows lifting in surprise when he sees them. Shiro blushes. 

“He put me here and put the kits on me!” Shiro whispers, still a bit scandalized. Ulaz smiles and enters the room, closing the door behind him. 

“There other’s are wondering where you were,” he says. “It’s been a few hours.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t leave them,” Shiro replies. “I don’t want to. It seems like something he really needed.”

Ulaz hums, approaching the bed appraising Keith closely. He feels Keith’s forehead and sucks in a breath. 

“What?” Shiro asks.

“He’s got a fever,” Ulaz responds. His voice is tense and he shakes Keith’s shoulder gently. 

“Keith. _Kiyarla_ , wake up.”

Keith doesn’t stir, but his hand slips from where it was resting on Shiro’s arm. Sudden fear chokes Shiro, and he struggles to breathe as Ulaz slips his hands under Keith and rolls him over, still trying to wake him, but Keith remains limp as a rag doll. 

“Ulaz, what’s wrong?” Shiro demands. 

The Galran's shoulders slump and he sits down on the bed, letting go of Keith and gently brushing the hair from his face. “He is in no danger at the moment,” he assures Shiro. “It is a natural response to stress and injury he has been through, much more than what is healthy for a pregnant Galra, even with the presence of a mate. Without him, Keith stress becomes even greater. The bond between Galra are strong, and affects them biologically.”

Shiro clutches the kits closer. “What happened to his mate?”

“Killed on a mission. Keith will seek the comfort and support he lacks, but in such a state of duress his body has been running on, at the first sign of care Galra will fall into a sub state, a kind of shutting down when he is in a safe place.”

Shiro swallows hard, staring at Keith’s limp form with horror. “I didn’t know,” Shiro whispers. “I thought it would help.”

Ulaz grips his shoulder. “It did help,” he says. “Your presence and touch are healing him like a mate would.”

Shiro’s gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but Ulaz pays no mind, standing and rifling through the medical supplies. “Don’t go anywhere, he needs you.”

“I-I don’t want to overstep,” Shiro protests, but Ulaz shakes his head. 

“You’re not,” he says. “It wouldn’t help if he didn’t want it. We can figure out the repercussions when he is stabilized. But Shiro,” he pauses and waits for Shiro to meet his gaze. “The choice is still yours.”

With mild surprise Shiro realizes he already knows his answer. When he looks at Keith he doesn't feel an obligation, just a warmth and a desire to protect, the kindling of something strong in his chest that had been cold and broken for so long. 

“I’ll do it.”

Ulaz’s gaze is calculating, but he nods once. “Stay close whenever you can. Talk to him, touch him, keep the kits near. I will stay with him as well.” 

****

“So he imprinted on you or something?” 

Shiro winces at Lance’s loud volume, rubbing his neck while trying to decide how to answer. 

“Or something.”

Allura places a hand on his shoulder. “Shiro, this is a good thing, for him and you. We've seen how you are with those babies, there’s been a change in you and we’re happy to see that.”

Shiro smiles, squeezing her hand. “Thanks Allura. It’s a lot to take in, but there’s something special about Keith and the babies. I want to help as much as I can, and I know they’re helping me too.”

“Man, I hope Keith wakes up soon,” Hunk says, rubbing his hands. “He’s kind of a scary guy but I know he could use some solid love and care. Ulaz has been giving me tips on the kind of food he needs too.”

“Coran said he needs you.”

The room falls silent. Shiro looks over at Pidge, sitting beside him on the couch with her chin on her knees. She studies him with genuine care, without judgment, and though Shiro knows the other paladins are invested in Keith’s recovery as well, he still finds it hard to explain his own connection when he can barely understand it himself. 

“He’s been through a lot,” he says slowly. “And his body is shutting down so it can heal. After trauma a Galra’s body will run on autopilot as it were, a high-stress and unhealthy state of defense, to keep them alive until they feel safe again. Once they find that, they shut down until they heal. Keith is even more extreme because the trauma happened during the time of pregnancy and birth, without the usual care he would receive.”

“Even though he’s half-human?” Lance asks. “Coran said he didn’t have all the instincts a full Galra would have.”

“Apparently this one is strong enough to surpass that.”

“I’ve been asking Ulaz and Coran for more information and compiling a database here,” Pidge says, scanning through her tablet. “Keith and the kits are part of the family, so we need to know how to take care of them.”

“We’re naming one of the babies Lance Jr.,” Lance declares, and gets a pillow thrown at his head by Hunk.

Shiro laughs wetly, surprised to find his hands shaking in his lap. Emotion clogs his throat and he heaves a deep breath to keep himself under control. A gentle touch on his arm draws his attention to Pidge. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. Shiro swallows hard, trying to find the words. 

“I need them too,” he rasps. “We talk about Keith’s side of things, but...I can’t explain…”

She smiles. “We know, Shiro. It’s ok.” She opens her arms and Shiro leans in. They squeeze each other close and the tightness in Shiro’s chest loosens a little. The support of the paladins warms his heart, and gives him the courage to face the challenges of the future, and his feelings. 

****

A few days pass, doing nothing to help Shiro’s dilemma. Keith doesn’t wake up, and even though Ulaz reassures them he will be fine, Shiro can’t tame the fear haunting his every waking moment. Attacks from the Empire keep them busy and Shiro mourns every moment he is away from Keith’s side. More than once he falls asleep at Keith’s bedside still in his armor, sweaty and bruised from battle but unable to leave. The kits are growing impossibly fast, now too big for Shiro to hold in one hand, and Shiro tends to them carefully with help from Ulaz and Coran. The rest of the team galvanize in their support, and though everyone is worn down from the constant attacks, there is a sense of mutual responsibility to protect and provide for Keith and the babies. At first Shiro is ashamed, afraid that this new development is weakening him and exposing the cracks hidden deep inside to the rest of the team, but they have been nothing but supportive. Still, the emergence of emotion in himself, long thought destroyed when he became the Empire’s monster, overwhelms and terrifies him. 

“Why am I so attached to him?” He wonders aloud one night, stroking the hair from Keith’s forehead. Ulaz glances over as he puts the last fed kit back to bed. 

“That is for your own heart to answer, no?” he says, and Shiro’s face grows warm. His heart has been telling him quite a bit lately, things Shiro isn’t ready to accept. 

“I didn’t think I could feel this way,” Shiro replies. “I haven’t felt anything in so long, but it’s dangerous,” he sighs, resting his head in his hands. “I can’t help but think he might be latching on to anyone to fill what he’s lacking, it doesn't mean anything, just...biological.”

“Galra rarely take to anyone after their mate dies,”Ulaz murmurs. “Especially so soon. I was shocked at first, how quickly he formed an attachment to you. It is a testament to the strength of his feelings, yet I assume he will feel torn as well, having accepted you so soon after the loss of Regris. He will not deny the importance of your connection, and you shouldn't either.”

Shiro sits in silence, mind whirling. 

*****

Soft chirps and grunts pull Keith from a deep slumber. Instinct begs him to wake, to see to his kits needs, but unconsciousness is like an inky quagmire that sticks to his limbs. He inhales and lets the air out slowly, trying to center himself and raw strength to open his eyes. The static in his ears fades as he blinks sluggishly, peering around the room. The lights are set to daytime, pale white but not too strong. The kits are properly fussing and Keith’s guesses they might be hungry. He stares are them for a moment. They've grown a lot and Keith wonders how long he’s been out for.

Keith pushes himself to a sitting position and struggles to clear the fog in his mind. He recalls being hit with a strong wave of exhaustion, and the warm feeling of safety overcoming his body. _Shiro,_ he realizes with a start. He lifts his head from the pillow and spots Shiro in a chair beside him fast asleep, upper body slumped onto the bed. He looks exhausted, hair mussed and stress lines on his brow, and Keith rumbles low in his chest, smoothing the paladin’s hair away from his face.

Keith wants to sink into the feeling of warmth and contentment, but it is marred by guilt. It’s hasn’t been long since he lost Regris, and here he is feeling for another. Shame for beginning to replace his mate so soon wars with the longing, the tender pull to this man who is bashful and grateful and strong, who loves his babies and treats Keith with such gentleness. Keith swallows the lump in his throat, fighting back the approaching tears. 

Closing his eyes, leans back and imagines Regris here with him, sitting on the side of the bed. In the chaotic weeks following his death and the subsequent attack on the base, Keith had had little time to grieve, much less find closure. With his mind’s eye he traces the form of his mate, soaking in the kind smile, the slope of his shoulders, his hand resting on Keith’s leg.

_I’m sorry,_ Keith thinks.

A sad smile blooms on Regris’ face. _Why are you sorry?_

_For everything. For feeling like this, like I’m alone and falling for him and letting you down-_

_Keith, no._ Keith and almost feel the touch on his cheek, caring and full of love. _It’s ok. I’m so sorry I left you, but you’re not alone. Never apologize for your feelings. I know you need him, he needs you too._

Keith chokes with emotion, curling in on himself. _But you-_

_He’s a good man._ Regris looks over to the sleeping Shiro, smile on his face. _You’re going to be alright, Keith._

_I love you,_ Keith thinks desperately, hands clutching the sheets. _I’m not ready to let you go._

_My Heart, I’ll always love you, but you need to let me go._

_It’s too soon!_ Keith cries.

_Maybe so, but don’t you think he can help you? You’re hurting, Keith. I wish I could be there to hold you and help you and raise our beautiful kits together, but I’m not. It’s ok to need love, it’s ok to want to be with someone you feel safe with. You know that’s what I would want.”_

A tear runs down Keith’s cheek, but he doesn’t wipe it away. _I’ll make sure our kits won’t forget you._

Another sweet smile and the form of his mate starts to fade. Keith unclenches his hands, allows the feeling to wash over him, like water slipping through his fingers. After a moment he opens his eyes, vision of the room blurred with tears. There is an emptiness in his chest, edged with loss and slowly being knit together with the first stitches of acceptance. He sits for a moment, breathing deeply before turning to his kits. They have quieted, but still grumpy and wanting to be fed, so he shuffles around to get comfortable and begins nursing them. 

Shiro stirs at the movement, dark eyelashes fluttering before cloudy grey eyes meet Keith’s own. Keith smiles, heart fluttering in his chest as Shiro blinks sleepily, nuzzling the blanket. Suddenly, Shiro jerks up with a gasp, eyes wide and hands hovering frantically. 

“Keith, you’re awake!”

Keith chuckles and steadies Shiro by the arm. “Yes, take it easy. How long was I out?” 

“Almost two weeks. You passed out when I stayed with you. Ulaz said something about shutting down after trauma when-” he cuts off, biting his lip. “Well, he said you felt safe.”

_Oh_. Keith rubs a kit’s fluffy ear between his fingers. Ulaz had no doubt explained to Shiro what this meant, but there was still so much that could go wrong. It had all gone wrong so far, Keith thought bitterly. 

“We should talk.” Shiro is picking at the blanket with a downcast expression, and a horrible thought strikes Keith’s mind. 

“You don’t have to be stuck with me,” he blurts, guilt flooding his throat. Shiro’s head snaps up but Keith plows on. “I don’t want you to feel obligated or...that…”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro says gently. He ducks close and hesitantly reaches out. When Keith doesn’t stop him he cradles Keith’s face in his hands. “I could never feel that way,” Shiro whispers, eyes serious. “I want to be here.”

Keith sucks in a breath and nods, suddenly realizing the fear coursing through him at the thought that Shiro would leave. He lays the now-sleeping babies in his lap to clutch Shiro’s wrists and Shiro presses their foreheads together. Keith sucks in a breath, fighting back the sudden tears.

“I know this is not how things are supposed to go, and I have no idea what I’m doing,” Shiro whispers. “We’re not ready for this, but I need you, and you need me. If there’s anything we can do in the god-forsaken universe, at least we can be there for each other.” he swallows hard, the hands on Keith’s face trembling, The lump in Keith’s throat is choking him, and all he can see is Shiro’s kind face, morphed to concern as Keith’s vision blurs and the tears spill over. 

“Will you let me help?” Shiro asks. “I know it’s soon for you, after-”

“Yes, of course,” Keith chokes out. “It’s ok, Shiro. It’s hard, but I’m beginning to accept it.”

Shiro’s eyes soften even more. “There’s no timeline on this,” he says, stroking Keith’s cheeks. “I’m here however you need me. You and the babies.” 

Keith knots his fingers into Shiro’s shirt, reveling in the warmth and closeness. For a moment they share breath, time suspended between them, tears on their faces. Keith feels raw, laid open and sees the same vulnerability in Shiro gaze. They draw closer, slowly at first, then suddenly Shiro’s lips are on his. It’s a sweet kiss, a gesture with no urgency or demand, but a declaration of care. When they part, Shiro envelops Keith in his arms. Keith keens, melting into the embrace as Shiro carefully lowers them both to the bed, the quiet kits nestled between them. 

Keith is under no grand delusion, he knows the path ahead of them will be rough, that war has raked its claws over them and left deep and ugly wounds. He yearns to protect the kits lying against his chest, and this pain-ridden man looking at him with such tenderness and fear. He touches Shiro’s face, and feels the smile bloom under his fingertips. The other man threads his fingers through Keith’s long hair, coaxing purrs from his chest, and Keith sighs, the first pieces of sharp dread falling from his heart.

It’s a beginning.


End file.
